Basil of Baker Street and the Deadly Assassin
by AmberLS123
Summary: Dr. Dawson's account of one of the most dangerous cases of Basil of Baker Street.
1. Chapter 1

Basil of Baker Street

the Deadly Assassin

by Dr. David Q. Dawson

During the course of my association with the Great Mouse Detective, we have faced many vicious criminals together. Throughout his career, it seemed as though Basil of Baker Street made a great deal more enemies than friends. I had thought that we would never encounter a more ruthless adversary than that of his archenemy, the nefarious Professor Ratigan. But I discovered that there was another who was just as deadly.

On a cold day in September of 1898, I was just retiring to bed for the night, leaving Basil sitting curled up in his red armchair playing his violin. The melodies he played often reflected what mood he was in, and at that moment, he played a very slow, somber song. He was always in a melancholy mood when he had no work to do. He expressed to me that whenever there was nothing on which he could exercise his powers, his mind was like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces. He would occupy his time either by performing chemical experiments, which often filled the house with obnoxious fumes; or by playing his violin. Its not that I didn''t enjoy hearing him play. He was a very talented musician, and could even compose his own music. But when I would wake up at three in the morning to hear him still scraping away at the instrument, it was almost enough to drive any mouse insane.

Plaintive notes from Basil's violin continued to drift throughout the house as I treaded wearily up the stairs. I had used some of my scant resources to rent a room just down the street, and had established my own medical practice. Since Basil and I were splitting the rent, I needed some means of income to pay our landlady, Mrs. Judson. It had been a long, tiring day, so I was looking forward to finally getting a bit of rest. But no sooner had I entered my room, when I heard a clatter of footsteps pounding up the stairs. "The games afoot, Dawson!" Basil exclaimed as he entered.

"I take it you've gotten another case?" I asked, noticing the telegram in his hand.

"Yes. Inspector Grayson's asked us to come with all haste to Brixton Road."

I rubbed my eyes sleepily. "Right now?"

""Yes, right now. Its murder this time, and apparently, the lady who found the body is hysterical. Since you are a doctor, I think your assistance would be invaluable." He paused as I unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a yawn. "That is," he added, "if you're up to it."

"How can I refuse?" I replied, attempting to smile as I reached for my medical bag. As a doctor, I always felt a responsibility to help those in need; and although I was loath to leave the comfort of my bed, I admit my curiosity had been greatly aroused.

Minutes later, I found myself bumping along in a cab as we raced to the crime scene. Basil grumbled a bit that we were not able to take Toby, the basset hound who sometimes also aided the human detective above us at Baker Street; but I couldn't help feeling a bit thankful. For some unknown reason, the dog had taken an immediate dislike to me when we had met, and whenever we rode him, I always wound up clinging to his tail for dear life as he raced down the streets hot upon the scent of a clue. But, since he was back with his original owners at the time, Basil and I were forced to take a slower route by cab.

Despite this inconvenience, Basil had cheered up considerably. The spark had come back into his green eyes, and a subdued eagerness in his expression that showed his excitement at no longer being stuck in his rooms with nothing to do. When I questioned him about the case, he shrugged.

"I don't know any more than you do. But judging by the urgency in the telegram, its no small matter."

When our carriage passed Brixton road, we jumped to the sidewalk and began walking from there. After finding the address of the house that Grayson indicated in the telegram, and maneuvering through the small crowd of curious onlookers being held back by several officers, we were escorted by young officer Stephen Hawkins into the sitting room of the house.

"I apologize for the lateness of the hour," Inspector Grayson said as we entered. "But this case is baffling to say in the least, and since you've done us a favor or two at the Yard before, I thought you may be interested."

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness," Basil replied happily, despite the graveness of the situation. "I was complaining to Dawson just the other day that sensational criminals were gone from society. What are the facts?"

"Mr. Edward Davis was found dead about an hour ago by his landlady, Mrs. Martha Greenwood. One of our officers patrolling the area heard a scream come from the top floor, and he found her passed out in the same room with the body. I cant get a word out of her. The poor thing is scared out of her wits."

"I can imagine," Basil replied. "But," he added, throwing a smile my way, "nothing our good Doctor can't handle."

While Basil continued conversing with the Inspector, I made my way quietly to the pale, sickly looking lady sitting in a chair in a corner of the room. I was very careful as I approached her; finding a body in her home was certainly a very traumatic experience, and I didn't want to frighten her.

"Hello, Mrs. Greenwood? I am Dr. Dawson." She looked at me with round, frightened eyes, and shrank at my touch. "Don't be afraid, my dear," I assured her, taking her trembling hand to feel her pulse. "I'm here to help you."

"How is she?" Basil asked quietly.

"The poor lady is in shock," I replied. "She may need a few moments."

Basil nodded and turned to Grayson. "Perhaps we could take a look at the scene, Inspector, while she's recovering."

"Alright. But I suggest you prepare yourself," Grayson added as we followed him up a flight of stairs. "A couple of our officers didn't have the stomach to stay in that room."

The inspector wasn't exaggerating. My nerves are fairly proof, as a result of my military duties in Afghanistan, but I couldn't help but feel horrified at the scene in that bedroom. Mr. Davis's body lay beneath the broken window, blood staining the carpet beneath him. His head had been so horribly mutilated as to make him unrecognizable. The only means of identifying him was a monogrammed pocket watch with the initials E. D. for Edward Davis.

I shook my head. "No wonder Mrs. Greenwood was so frightened."

As Basil began investigating the room in his methodical way, Grayson explained what he knew so far. "He was killed by an expanding revolver bullet. But no murder weapon has been found. There are no traces on the ground below, and nothing which could have been used to climb to the window. And yet it is impossible for someone to have made the shot from the street below, and the house next door is too far away. This is a busy thoroughfare, and no shot was heard. And yet, there is the body, and the bullet that killed him."

"A baffling case, indeed," I noted.

"It is a tough one, isn't it?" Basil remarked as he stood. "'You've been very thorough in your search, Inspector. No traces on the window, no footprints, no murder weapon...a most intriguing case. Have you actually checked the house next door?"

"No, there's no need. As I said, its too far away."

"Perhaps. But a very wise man once said, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth.' A saying Ive found to true time and time again."

"Well," said the Inspector reluctantly, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for us to take a look, just to be sure. But I believe it to be a waste of time."

I admit I was relieved when we finally left that gruesome scene. After descending the stairs, I went to check on the lady, hoping that she had calmed.

"Dawson," Basil said to me, "while you're helping Mrs. Greenwood, I'm going to step outside for a moment and search the grounds, although I doubt I'll will find anything. It's not that I don't have faith in Grayson's abilities. But," he added with an amused smile, "no harm in checking twice, you know."

Mrs. Greenwood looked up with red rimmed eyes as I approached. "Is...i-is it gone?" she asked trembling.

"Is what gone?" I asked gently as I sat beside her.

"That...that dreadful...corpse. H-Have they t-taken it away?"

"They are removing it now."

"Oh, thank heavens! I can't stand it...I will n-never get that image out of m-my mind," she said with a shudder. "But Mr. Davis was such a nice young mouse. I-I don't understand why someone would...would kill him... and in such a h-horrible way..."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Greenwood," I assured her, patting her hand. "The police and Mr. Basil are doing all they can to find the culprit."

"Basil of Baker Street? The famous detective?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've heard of him." A look of genuine hope came into her eyes. "Is it true what they say about him? Can he really solve this?"

"I have no doubt of it, madam," I replied confidently.

After finishing his investigation of the grounds, Basil stepped into the room and introduced himself. "Mrs. Greenwood, I am Basil of Baker Street. Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?"

"Y-Yes," she replied. "I'll try to answer as best I can. Whatever helps to clear this dreadful matter up."

"Thank you. I know it's not something you would like to dwell on, but can you tell me what happened?"

"I...I'll try," she answered bravely. "I was dusting and cleaning in this room, when I heard a tinkling sound, like glass being broken, and then a dull thud. Mr. Davis's room is located directly above this one, and I thought that he must have dropped something, or had fallen; so I went upstairs to see what was the matter. But when I knocked on the door, there was no reply. The door was unlocked, and I opened it, and... and... oh, poor Mr. Davis! It was terrible! So much blood..." Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry. I know I'm a mess..."

"It's quite alright, madam," Basil said understandingly. "Take all the time you need."

After composing herself once more, Mrs. Greenwood continued. "I screamed at the sight of him, and I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the arms of a police officer."

After thinking quietly for several moments, Basil asked, "Can you tell me about Mr. Davis?"

"Oh, he was such a kind mouse," Mrs. Davis replied. "Very quiet, always kept to himself. But he was always on time with the rent, and he was a big help to me. If it weren't for him, I would have had to close this place months ago."

"He is your only lodger?"

"Yes, sir. My husband passed away several years ago, and the children are all grown. No one else lives here besides myself."

"Do you know where Mr. Davis lived before he came here?"

"No, sir, he never spoke of his past. Whenever I brought it up, the most sorrowful look came into his eyes, and he would change the subject. It seemed as if he were almost ashamed to speak of his past."

"I see. Does he have any friends, or enemies, for that matter?"

"I don't think so. As I said, he was always very quiet, and as far as I know, he never went out with friends. He would go to work in the morning and return here in the evenings."

"What was his occupation?"

"He was a carpenter, a very talented one at that. He made some much needed repairs on this house. He made more cabinets for the kitchen, repaired the broken rail on the stairs; he could fix anything."

"Interesting. Did he ever appear to be nervous or worried?"

"He did seem a bit anxious about something. He was always glancing about furtively, jumping at the slightest noise or shadow that passed outside. Ive asked him about it before, but he replied that he had always been a nervous sort."

"I see," Basil said thoughtfully. "Well, I appreciate your time, Mrs. Greenwood. You've been an immense help. I'm terribly sorry that you had to be subject to such horrifying events. But rest assured I will do all in my power to find Mr. Davis's killer."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil, and you too, Dr. Dawson. I feel infinitely better knowing that you're on the case."

Taking our leave of the landlady, we met Grayson and young Hawkins outside. "Well, Mr. Basil, were you able to learn anything from the lady?" Grayson asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenwood provided most useful information regarding her lodger." As the four of us walked to the house next door, Basil relayed everything that Mrs. Greenwood had told us about Mr. Davis.

"This Davis fellow is a mystery in himself," Grayson remarked. "Which makes this case that much harder to solve. If he had any friends, we could interview them to see if he had any enemies. But Davis seems to have been a recluse."

"Perhaps he was...hiding from something?" Hawkins ventured quietly.

The Inspector turned to the lad and raised his eyebrows. "And what makes you say that?" he questioned.

"W-Well, sir," Hawkins replied, flinching under Grayson's stern gaze, "w-why else would he make a point t-to avoid society?"

"Excellent, Hawkins!" Basil replied, slapping him on the back. "That was just I was thinking. I would keep my eye on this one, Inspector. He is a bright young lad, and has a lot to offer the force."

Hawkins blushed slightly at the great detective's praise, but his eyes lit up. "Thank you, Mr. Basil, sir."

"Well," Grayson said, bristling slightly that his younger subordinate had lit upon something he hadn't even thought of, "what on earth was he hiding from?"

"That, Inspector," said Basil, "is exactly what we must find out."

**Author's Note: The quote by Basil that "when you have eliminated the impossible..." is a quote by the master, Sherlock Holmes. **

**Disclaimers: Basil, Dawson, and Ratigan belong to Eve Titus and Disney. Grayson, Hawkins, Mrs. Greenwood, and Mr. Davis are my own original characters, so no stealing :) **

**Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated ^.^  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Basil of Baker Street

the Deadly Assassin

by Dr. David Q. Dawson

We arrived shortly at the house next door, and the Inspector rapped on the door. Upon receiving no answer, he turned the knob and found it unlocked. The door groaned as it slowly creaked back on it hinges, and Hawkins cautiously lifted his lantern to illuminate the scene inside.

The four of us stepped into an empty house. It was apparent that it had been vacant for years; white sheets were draped upon what little furniture remained, most of the windows were boarded up, wallpaper peeled from the wall in strips, and the wood had rotted in some places, leaving gaping holes in the floor and walls.

I couldn't help as chills ran down my spine. It was certainly an ideal place to carry out such a murderous deed. My hand strayed to my trusty service revolver, which I always carried when on a case with Basil. If this had indeed been the murderer's hideout, it was possible that he could still be here. This thought, combined with the eeriness of the place, filled me with a sense of foreboding.

"Certainly is filthy," I remarked quietly as our footsteps stirred up the dust.

"But dust is good, right?" Hawkins asked. "If someone was here, then he'll have left traces in the dust."

"Exactly," Basil replied with a smile. He wasted no time and immediately got down to business. "Now I think our best bet is to try the second room on the left in the hall upstairs."

"Awful sure of himself, isn't he?" the inspector remarked skeptically to me. I could only shrug. I hadn't the foggiest notion of just how Basil could know such a thing, but I never doubted his deductions. The floorboards squeaked beneath our feet as we carefully followed the detective up the stairs. And sure enough, footprints led down the hall to the exact room which Basil had said they would.

The Inspector looked surprised at first but then chuckled. "Looks like you're hunch was right, Mr. Basil."

"It was more than a hunch, Inspector," Basil replied. "I knew for a fact that this was the room from which the shot was fired."

"Of course you did," Grayson mumbled.

"But _how _did you know, Mr. Basil?" Hawkins asked eagerly.

"Elementary, my lad," said Basil. "But step over to the window and I'll show you. Now kneel down right here; put yourself at eyelevel with the window pane."

Hawkins did as Basil directed, excited at his chance to learn firsthand from the great detective. Grayson stood scowling with his arms crossed, trying to remain skeptical; but his curiosity won out in the end, and he and I gazed over Hawkins' shoulder to get a view from the window.

"Good," said Basil. "Now, Hawkins, what do you see?"

"Mrs. Greenwood's house," he answered.

"Yes, but more specifically, which room is in your line of sight?"

"Um…I believe its Davis' bedroom window!"

"Exactly! This room in which we're standing has a perfect view into Davis' room. As I examined the window in that room, I looked over at this house and saw a flash of white in this window, which I deduced was curtains fluttering in the wind that indicated that this window was partially open. And as you can see, it is open a just enough to allow a slight breeze to stir the curtains. Our culprit crouched in this exact spot where he had a perfect, unobstructed view of his prey, opened the window to stick his gun through so as to avoid shattering the glass, and with his gun resting on the window pane, shot Mr. Davis as he passed by his window."

He spoke as if addressing a class full of students rather than a retired military doctor and two Scotland Yarders, and at his conclusion, he gave a slight bow, much like an artist unveiling a masterpiece.

"Good show, old boy," I said with a smile.

Grayson nodded respectfully. "Indeed, Mr. Basil."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Basil said.

"Alright," Grayson said, jotting things down in a small notebook. "We know where and how the crime was committed. Now, who committed the crime, and why?"

Basil stooped down to the floor and examined a footprint in the dust with his magnifying glass. "As to the 'who,' the murderer wears size 9 boots, the left of which has a nail missing, is about 14 cm tall…" he paused, holding a small hair up to the light and examining it under his magnifying glass, "…and has blonde hair. As to the 'why,' I haven't enough evidence to form a satisfactory conclusion, and it is very dangerous to form theories without facts."

"Right," said Grayson as he closed his notebook. "We'll question Davis's employer first thing in the morning and see if he knows anything about a mouse by that description."

"Excellent," replied Basil. "I will also make some inquiries into the matter, and we can meet tomorrow evening and compare notes. In the meantime," he said with a grin as I tried yet again to stifle a yawn, "I believe it would be beneficial for everyone to get a good night's rest."

When we finally arrived at Baker Street, I wearily took off my coat and headed up the stairs to bed. Basil on the other hand, sat curled up in his armchair and drew his knees up to his chin as the smoke from his pipe swirled about him. I however, did not possess such reserves of energy as he, and so I was grateful to finally collapse upon my bed. So exhausted was I that I do believe I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. However, my dreams were haunted by images from that grisly scene in Davis' room and the sinister house next door.

When I awoke the next morning, I found that Basil had already gone, no doubt eager to begin his investigation. I had several appointments scheduled for that day, so after a quick breakfast, I made my way to my medical practice located just down the street.

But throughout the day, I found my thoughts drifting back to the case at hand. Why on earth would someone murder a seemingly harmless young mouse? Unless Davis had done something to the culprit and they had murdered him for revenge? And if so, what had he done to deserve such a horrible fate?

Try as I might, I could come up with no answer to these questions. I wondered if Basil or the Inspector had learned anything, and I anxiously awaited the hour when we would meet back at Baker Street.

That evening, however, I had gathered my things to leave, and was looking out the window as I put on my coat and hat. I saw a young mouse in a tattered coat and scarf running down the sidewalk, as if he were being chased by a horde of demons. To my utter astonishment, the fellow ran up the front steps and burst through the front door before I could stop him, bolting and locking it behind him.

Two thoughts crossed my mind; either the poor fellow was insane, or he was a dangerous ruffian and I was in extreme peril. I cautiously stepped toward the bureau where I kept a revolver hidden as I spoke to him. "Now, wait just a minute, young man," I said sternly. "You cannot just barge in and-"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward a bit roughly. "Get away from the window!" he ordered. With his back against the wall, he inched close to the window, then rapidly flung the curtains closed.

While his back was turned toward me, I hastily grabbed the gun from the drawer. The intruder spun back around in surprise. "Who are you?" I demanded as I leveled the gun at him.

He looked at me annoyingly and hissed, "For heavens sake, Dawson! Put that thing away! It's me!" As he removed the coat and scarf, I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Great Scot, Basil!" I reprimanded. "You…you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"And you nearly put a bullet in me!" he retorted. But then his expression softened. "Terribly sorry, old fellow," he said, giving me an apologetic smile. "I suppose that was a rather dramatic entrance. And I had no idea that my disguise was that convincing."

"Ah, don't worry about it, old boy," I replied as I sat in my chair. "Have you learned anything about Davis's killer?"

"Yes, actually. That is the reason for this disguise; Basil of Baker Street would not have been welcome in the places I've been to today." As he fell rather than sat on the sofa, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he seemed.

"I had my doubts at first," he continued. "But now I am more certain than ever. You know that I am by no means a nervous sort. But I've had a recent experience that has led me to be even more cautious than usual."

This seemed very strange to me. I had known the detective for some time now, and as he said, I knew that he was not the type to worry; but his pale face and trembling hands told me that his nerves were stretched to their highest tension. "You're afraid of something?"

"Yes. Of air guns."

"But whatever for?"

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingertips together. "You remember after the Flaversham case, we helped the police round up most of the thugs from Professor Ratigan's gang." I nodded. "Then," he continued, "during one of our cases- I believe it was the one you entitled 'The Case of the Emerald Ring'- we caught one of those members, Robert Flynn, the master of disguise, and I mentioned that he was a key member of Professor Ratigan's gang." I nodded again. "Well, he was not the only one that got away."

My eyes widened. "You mean, there are others still at large?"

Basil nodded. "You see," he explained, "Ratigan was the head of a vast criminal organization. Due to his extreme intelligence, he rapidly gained control over Mousedom's criminal underworld. Over the years, he's amassed a large horde of vermin, some common thugs, others ruthless murders. They were all his tools. But some, mostly the more intelligent ones, were more useful to him than others. Take Flynn for example. You can see how his abilities as a master of disguise was very beneficial to the Professor. There's also Robbins, a former druggist, who's knowledge of poisons was also quite invaluable; Wilson, the strangler; even a woman, Lady Violet Whiteside, an exotic beauty who has lured many men to their deaths; among several others. But one of the most dangerous of these by far is Erik Jaeger.

"He lived in India for a long while, and his occupation was a hunter. He is an excellent shot, and has been renowned for his ferocity and skill at capturing and killing creatures five times his size. The way he does this is with an air gun, which is fired with compressed air, making it a very powerful weapon. He is famous for being the best shot in India.

"Jaeger also had a criminal streak in him, and he turned to poaching rare and exotic species. When India got too hot to hold him, Jaeger came to London. Ratigan hired him for his shooting abilities, and he became a bounty hunter of sorts. If the Professor needed to remove a threat, Jaeger was the one to do it. I've known of that weapon's existence for some time, and with Jaeger pulling the trigger, anyone caught in the crosshairs has no chance. Mr. Davis is proof of that."

"Jaeger killed him?"

"I'm sure of it. No other weapon could have been fired from such a distance. And you remember how horribly mangled Davis's face was; he was unrecognizable."

"But why did he kill Davis?"

"That's the same question I've asked myself hundreds of times within the past two days. I've done some digging, and throughout my investigation, I have discovered that Davis is not his true name; it's Samuel Evans."

"Now that sounds familiar…" I said scratching my chin.

"That's because he was one of the thugs captured by police soon after Ratigan's demise. You remember Mrs. Greenwood told us of his carpentry skills. It turns out he played a large part in building Ratigan's air ship. I don't know how for sure, but Ratigan had some sort of hold over him. He most likely owed him a debt, and building the dirigible was how he paid it off. Anyway, Evans felt guilty for helping Ratigan, and when police arrested him, he surrendered without a fight, and answered all their questions. Most importantly, he gave them the names of many members still at large. Hence, Jaeger's motive for killing him: they consider him to be a traitor, so he had to be eliminated. But he must have known that someone would come after him since he went to the extent of changing his name after he was released from prison."

"That explains why Mrs. Greenwood said he seemed so nervous," I said, shaking my head sadly. "Imagine, living for months in hiding, knowing that the blow would fall eventually, but never knowing when."

"I know the feeling," Basil replied quietly. "Since Ratigan's demise, Jaeger and the others have had to go underground. It is easy to imagine that they want to exact revenge on the one responsible for their leader's death, and I expected that they would come after me eventually."

I then understood his fear of air guns, and why he was so quick to pull me away from the window. "Then he has threatened you?" I asked.

"Not Jaeger himself…yet. But his agents are on the move. I know that at least two have been following me all day. I managed to lose one of them on the way here, but the other ruffian got ahead of me and turned the tables. I practically ran smack into him, and he came at me with a knife." He held out a hand, wrapped in a bloodstained cloth. "I was able to wrestle it from his grasp easily enough, but clumsily cut myself in the process." Seeing my look of concern, he hastily added, "Don't worry, my dear Dawson, 'tis merely a scratch. The police have the fellow in custody, and I have explained the situation to Inspector Grayson himself. Our primary concern now is finding Jaeger. Convicting him won't be a problem; the bullet alone is enough. But proving that the bullet came from his air gun will draw the noose even tighter."

"Then we need that gun," I said. "But how will we get it?"

"By capturing its owner. But needless to say, it will be quite dangerous. Jaeger is as ferocious as a tiger, especially when cornered, and we must take great precautions when dealing with him. Nevertheless, he will not get away with his crimes, and we shall beat him at his own game."

Basil's emerald green eyes flashed with fierce determination. He was always willing to risk everything, even his own life, in order to bring criminals to justice. And there could be no doubt as to this mouse's intentions. They held Basil responsible for their leader's death, and would stop at nothing to exact their revenge. Needless to say, I felt very concerned for his safety. "What are you going to do now? They probably followed you here, and when you leave, they could have a trap waiting. You're welcome to stay here for the night."

The detective gave a weary smile and shook his head. "I appreciate it, my dear Dawson, but you would find me a dangerous guest. I'm afraid that so long as I'm under your roof, you are in just as much danger as I. I fear that I've endangered you enough already by coming here; but when I leave, anyone watching will follow me, since I'm the one they want. Still, I advise you to sleep with one eye open tonight, and keep your revolver close at hand. And it's no use trying to convince me to allow you to come along," he added, reading my thoughts. "I-I'd never forgive myself…if any harm…i-if anything were to befall…"

That was perhaps the most emotional expression I have ever witnessed on the great detective's face. But a moment later, it was replaced by the usual impenetrable mask of reason. He rose to leave, but then turned back to me. "And stay here," he ordered. "Do _not_ under _any _circumstance return to Baker Street."

"But what about you?"

"Not to worry, chap," he added with a roguish smile. "I've been in this business for some time, and I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

I sighed, knowing that once his mind was made up, there was nothing I could do to change it. "At least let me bandage your hand properly."

"I told you, Doctor, it's only a scratch," he replied typically. "It will heal on its own. Now, if you don't mind, I will take my leave through your back door."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Basil," I muttered under my breath as the door closed behind him.

**Author's Notes: Of course he knows what he's doing, Dawson! ;) Ok, the air gun thing you may have noticed is a reference to "the Empty House," (as is the empty house itself), and Jaeger, which I believe is German for "hunter," is based loosely off of Col. Moran. Also, Basil knows how tall the murderer is by the size of his shoe and length of his stride. And of course, I did research on air guns, and I think they're very powerful and quiet, so it's ideal for shooting long distances and without a loud report. I also tried to come up with a little history going back to Ratigan. Everyone remembers the big air ship right?**

**Please review...I'd like to know how I'm doing and where I can improve. ^.^ **

(Disclaimers: Basil, Dawson, and Ratigan belong to Eve Titus and Disney. All other characters are mine)


	3. Chapter 3

Basil of Baker Street

the Deadly Assassin

by Dr. David Q. Dawson

_**Part 3:**_

Although I had only known Basil for a short time, I had the utmost confidence in him and his abilities. He was calm and in control even in the most dire of circumstances. Here he was being hunted down by the most ruthless of killers, staring death straight in the face; and yet he seemed more concerned about catching this fiend so that he might not cause more harm to others. I must admit that at first I was a bit hurt at his forbidding me to accompany him, but I know that he only did so because he was concerned for my own safety.

Needless to say, sleep did not come easy to me that night. I could only lay awake wondering just what horrible things might have befallen Basil. Had he gotten away to safety? Or had he fallen into the hands of this bloodthirsty assassin? The horrifying thought of finding his body the next morning in some alleyway or gutter haunted my restless dreams. But I had as of yet never known him to fail, and so I clung to that glimmer of hope, praying that wherever he might be now, he was safe.

I rose early the next morning anxious to learn of any news from my friend. And yet I had no idea as to what I should do. I considered going out and searching for him, but he had instructed me to stay at my office, so I felt reluctant to leave. I had no appointments scheduled for that day, so I tried to busy myself with paperwork, reading the morning paper, and even tidying up. But as the minutes dragged by, I grew more and more worried that something awful had happened.

As I paced the sitting room anxiously, I walked past the window that Basil had pulled me away from last night. Wondering if anyone was indeed watching, I cautiously pulled the curtain back a tiny bit, making sure to stay out of sight. As I did so, I saw a young street mouse running down the sidewalk, dodging between the feet of human pedestrians. I grew surprised as I watched him bound up the steps and began pounding on my door.

"May I help you, young man?" I asked as I opened the door.

The boy reached a grimy hand inside his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled up note. "Mr. Basil said to give this you," he said. Before I could question him further, he took off.

As I stepped back inside and unfolded the piece of paper, I briefly wondered if this was some kind of ruse or trap by Jaeger. But my fears were laid to rest as I read the contents of the note.

"That young lad was Higgins, the head of what I call 'the Baker Street Irregulars.' I have often employed their help in my cases. I would have come to you in person, but it would have been a great risk not only for me, but for you also. Come immediately to Warehouse 15 by the docks. Then I will explain all. Bring your revolver. The game is afoot. B"

And so I took off with all haste to the location Basil indicated. I tapped my foot impatiently as the cab bumped along the cobblestone streets, anxious to know what his plan was. I jumped from the cab as it arrived at my destination. Several warehouses loomed out of the mist, and after several minutes, I finally found the one with a large 15 painted above the door.

My heart leaped when I saw a mouse walking toward me, and my hand flew to the revolver in my pocket. However, the mouse chuckled as he held his hands up.

"Don't shoot, Dawson. It's only me."

I gave a sigh of relief. I hadn't recognized him because he was still in disguise. "Great Scot, Basil, that's twice that I've almost shot you."

"Quite alright, chap," he said with a smile. "I'll just have to be more careful around you. But you're very cautious, and that's good…especially considering who we're dealing with."

I hastily put the gun back in my pocket. "So," I said, indicating the building before us. "Jaeger's hideout?"

Basil nodded. "I've finally tracked him here." He pulled a pocket watch from his pocket. "Ah, Inspector Grayson and his troops should be arriving soon. They will surround the building and cut off all possible exits. Our job is to lure the villain out of hiding."

"How will we do that?"

"By giving him bait that he simply can't resist."

"Considering that Jaeger is an expert marksman," I said crossing my arms, "I'm not so sure I like the sound of this plan."

Basil's expression softened as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "I know, but it's the only way. We cannot allow this murderer to harm more innocents. I know the risks to myself, and I'm willing to take it. But I don't expect you to take the same risks; in fact, I advise against it. But I also know you're far too loyal of a friend, and…well, there's no one I'd rather have by my side."

It was very rare to see Basil express such emotion, so it was clear to see how sincere he was. And looking into those determined green eyes, I could also see that there would be no changing his mind.

And so I found myself back by my friend's side as our hunt for the assassin continued. My revolver felt heavy in my pocket as I considered the danger we were facing. We entered the building through a small crack in the wall, and were suddenly enclosed in almost complete darkness. But Basil possessed an incredible sense of sight, and grabbing my sleeve, he led the way. There were small patches of moonlight shining in from the windows high above us, but we mostly kept to the shadows.

I had expected that we would encounter a barrage of gunfire from Jaeger and his accomplices, but on the contrary, it was deathly silent…which was even more unnerving. After several minutes of searching, even Basil seemed uneasy.

"Something's not right," he whispered.

At that moment, a loud voice boomed all around us. "Well, well. Basil of Baker Street. It's about time you got here. I was beginning to worry."

"Erik Jaeger," Basil replied. "Finally out of hiding I see. It's been, what, only a year or so?"

"Laugh all you like, detective," the villain growled. "But I haven't been idle since the Professor's demise."

As the villain spoke, Basil's ears twitched in all directions, trying to find the source of the voice. He had an amazing sense of hearing as well as sight. A moment later, he inclined his head for me to follow him.

"It has proven difficult to find new recruits," Jaeger continued, "thanks to you and your reputation, but there are several who have sworn allegiance to me. Soon, they'll be flocking to me. Imagine…Erik Jaeger, the magnificent hunter who killed Basil of Baker Street…I'll become the most feared mouse in England."

"We'll see about that," Basil replied. "However, there will never be a criminal like unto Ratigan again. There is a reason he was called 'the Napoleon of Crime.'"

Jaeger growled again. "Ratigan's mistake was not sticking around to make sure you were dead," he snarled. "But I won't make the same mistake. You will die by my own hand."

Basil chuckled. "Countless others have made that same statement, and yet here I am."

As he spoke, Basil cocked his gun, and I did the same. I realized he was deliberately trying to provoke the mouse, making him continue to talk, so we could locate him. The voice was louder now, as we drew closer.

"I am a bit disappointed, though, detective. I had hoped that we could end our little dispute mouse to mouse. But then you bring your doctor friend along for protection."

"The only coward here is you, Jaeger," I said through gritted teeth. "Show yourself!"

"Save your breath, Dawson," said Basil. "Remember this is all a game to him. Merely the thrill of the hunt."

"Very true, detective. But not just any hunt. This is the greatest hunt of my career, and you will be my greatest prize." The voice chuckled darkly. "Just think what a lovely little trophy your head will make mounted above my fireplace."

I shuddered involuntarily at that gruesome statement. But suddenly Basil grabbed my arm again, and after putting a finger to his lips, pointed up at a large stack of crates. At first I saw nothing, but moments later, I saw a gleam of steel, and I knew that our adversary was just up on that ledge with his fearsome weapon. Basil held up three fingers and mouthed the words, "On three."

"But enough chit chat," said Jaeger. "Let the real hunt begin!"

On Basil's signal, we both peeked around the box we were using for cover and aimed for the figure above us…but stopped short. I gasped and Basil's eyes grew wide.

"H-He's gone!" I whispered.

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. A loud report sounded near us, and to my horror, Basil dropped to the ground with a cry.

"Basil?"

No response.

"BASIL!"

* * *

**Author's Notes: Ok, couple notes on this chapter. I wasn't sure whether or not to include the "Baker Street Irregulars" in this one, but I went ahead and did mention them, if only just briefly. And Jaeger's statement "Ratigan's mistake was not sticking around to make sure you were dead" is a reference to that scene in the movie where Basil and Dawson are tied to the overkill death trap, but Ratigan leaves them to their doom and sets up a camera to take a pic of them because he was late for his "engagement" to take over the kingdom. I wonder if what the outcome would have been had he actually , this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but it's been SOOO long since I updated, I wanted to go ahead and submit this part. And I just had to leave you in suspense.**

**UPDATE: Sorry guys, I just realized I uploaded the wrong document to this chapter. I've changed it, but the only difference is there are about 6 more lines that I added. I meant to have it end where Basil got shot, not where Jaeger says, "Let the hunt begin." Sorry 'bout that...  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Basil of Baker Street

the Deadly Assassin

by Dr. David Q. Dawson

_**Part 4:**_

That was one of the most terrifying minutes of my life. Of course, I knew that Basil almost always faced danger in his line of work. "Danger is part of my trade," he would say. But I had always feared something like this would happen. Now my worst fears were coming true as I knelt by my fallen comrade's side. Immediately my medical instincts took over. It was so dark in the warehouse that I could not see any blood, but it was obvious by the way he was clenching his chest and by his shallow breathing that he was badly hurt. As he let out a small groan, I knew he didn't have much time. However, before I could turn him over to examine the wound, the assassin spoke again.

"Stop right where you are."

I glared up at Jaeger as he stepped out of the shadows, pointing his deadly weapon at us. Seeing the mouse who shot my friend, my hand immediately flew to my revolver. "Y-You blackguard…" I growled, but I stopped shortly as I heard the click of Jaeger's air gun.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned. "That is, unless you want a bullet lodged in your skull. Now, I want you to listen very carefully, and do exactly as I say. First, lay that gun on the floor."

I looked to Basil helplessly, but still no response. Jaeger had every advantage at the moment. He was much more skilled than I, and would have shot me before I could even point my revolver at him. I had no choice but to do as he said. With my hands trembling with anger and fear, I laid my revolver down at my feet.

"Very good, Doctor," Jaeger said with a smirk. "Kick it away."

I did so.

"Now back away slowly, until I tell you to stop. And keep your hands where I can see them."

Feeling very cowardly, I took several steps back, until my back was against one of the large crates. Jaeger chuckled and began to address the fallen detective. "Now I'm glad you didn't come alone," he said. "The doctor can be a witness to your death. And when he spreads the news that I killed Basil of Baker Street, all of Mousedom will come to fear me. I'll be more powerful than that _sewer rat_ ever was!"

Basil coughed weakly as Jaeger stood over him. "It's a shame you won't be around to see my grand empire. You could have made a valuable ally, you know. But it looks as if your time is running out." He pointed the weapon down at Basil's head. "Any final words before I put you out of your misery?"

To my astonishment, as well as Jaeger's, Basil suddenly swung his leg around, knocking Jaeger off his feet. In a flash, the detective was on top of him, trying to wrestle the gun from his grasp. My mind was reeling, but I quickly and rushed over to help him subdue the criminal, which proved to be an incredibly difficult task. Jaeger was like a wild animal himself when cornered. However, when Basil dealt a hard right hook to his jaw, Jaeger was temporarily stunned, and I managed to wrench the gun from his grasp. After Basil clicked a set of handcuffs onto his wrists, he pulled a police whistle from his pocket and blew on it shrilly. Minutes later, Inspector Grayson arrived along with several Scotland Yard officers. The inspector's eyes grew wide when he saw Basil and I practically sitting on top of Jaeger to hold him down, but young Officer Hawkins was grinning nearly from ear to ear. "By Jove, he's got him!" he exclaimed.

"Well, Inspector?" Basil said as Jaeger thrashed about in our grasp. "Don't just stand there gawking, give us a hand, will you?" As the police took over, Basil stood and dusted himself off and I located my discarded revolver in the shadows. "You've got the rest of the gang in custody?" the detective asked.

Grayson nodded cheerfully, obviously in high spirits. "They didn't give us too much trouble, once they saw we had them surrounded." He inclined his head at Jaeger. "And you've got the ringer leader, I see."

"We certainly have. Gentlemen, may I introduce Erik Jaeger, expert marksman and Professor Ratigan's hired assassin, who shot Edward Davis in his bedroom from the window of the neighboring house with this air gun."

As Basil handed the weapon over to Grayson, Jaeger made a desperate lunge at the detective, but the officers held him back. "Y-Y-You…!" he stuttered as he struggled in the officers' tight grip. "Impossible! I-I never miss…y-you should be dead!"

"Oh, you were right on target," Basil replied with a smile. "Which is why I paid a visit last night to my friend Mr. George Goodwin, who generously lent me this." As he spoke, the detective unbuttoned his coat and opened it to reveal a thick, black vest. "Upon discovering that silk could slow the impact of a bullet, Mr. Goodwin has been developing a sort of bullet resistant vest by weaving a steel plate between several layers of silk. The energy from the bullet is absorbed and dispersed throughout the surface of the vest, causing the bullet to become flattened out like a mushroom. The bullet did pass through a couple of layers, but the energy was eventually dispersed enough to stop it completely."

"You would have made an excellent actor," I said with a laugh. "Certainly had me fooled."

Basil laughed heartily. "I feared that I had rather overdone it. The poor lighting helped to disguise the fact that there was no blood. Though it wasn't entirely an act. There was considerable power behind the bullet, so the impact was still a bit painful; I'm sure there'll be a nasty bruise in the morning. But I wager it won't be long before Mr. Goodwin perfects his invention and it becomes part of the regulation uniform of the Yard."

"It would certainly come in handy," Grayson nodded thoughtfully. "Well," I said, "at least Mrs. Greenwood will get some peace in knowing that her tenant's killer has been caught."

"Evans should have kept his stupid mouth shut," Jaeger growled. "That traitor got what he deserved."

Never have I seen such a look upon Basil's face as the one he gave Jaeger at that moment. "And you, who has murdered and destroyed the lives of countless innocents, deserve far worse," he replied coldly. As Basil's emerald eyes bored into his, Jaeger actually seemed to shrink back in fear.

"I should think the jury will be of the same opinion," Grayson agreed. As they led him away, Basil and I followed.

"I do hope that's the last we ever hear of Ratigan and his ilk," I remarked.

Basil smoked his pipe thoughtfully. "I couldn't agree more, Dawson," the detective replied as we stepped out into the cold foggy streets and headed home towards Baker Street.

* * *

**Author's Notes: AT LAST! It's finally finished! I'm afraid it ended too abruptly, but I'm at a loss for what else to put in it. I've had awful writer's block with this chapter. And I'm not so good at describing action scenes. Had to do LOTS of research on bulletproof vests. Dr. George Emery Goodfellow (aka George Goodwin in my fic) is one of the several men known for his work in developing a bulletproof vest. I tried to describe how it works as accurately as I could ^^**

**Thank you everyone for reading, and for all the wonderful comments! 3...And sorry for keeping you in suspense so long... ;)**


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